Any Port in a Storm

I sent an email to Catholic friends and family:

Hi there,

Would you do your favorite Jewish family a solid and pray to St. Joseph that our house sells? We are trying to join Husband in Colorado Springs next month, but we need to sell our house first. So PLEASE put in a good word for us. And uh…while you’re at it…you could also pray for our eternal souls. My mom would sure appreciate that.

Interesting responses. From an old friend:

I do try to limit my requests to health related prayers, you know...'keep me from ever getting a call from the hospital and hearing "Are you the mother of .....' or, asking that I don't mess up my kids so much that they end up wearing all black and overdosing at 13....that type of prayer. Oh yeah, an occasional, 'give me strength not to pack my bags and move home and forget about this ridiculous life I've set up for myself.'
I'm thinking that I'll phrase it so that you can be together with your hubby? That may push through and keep me in his good graces at the same time. Good luck!

From my cousin:

I think you were suposta bury him in your backyard or some other horse sh*t.

From my brother:

I can't support this at all. Tell you what, hit confession tonight. Tell the priest you're sorry for the past thirteen years and ask him to bless that sh*t. Otherwise you're staying in Tampa and eventually going to hell. Think about it.

Several family members said they'd do a shout-out and so, like good Jews, my kids and I went to a Christian bookstore and bought a St. Joseph Kit. The assault on my conscience and liberal sensibilities hit me the moment I walked in the door. Surrounded by books such as Public Education Against America while the intercom glorified "Life Music", I immediately broke out in hives.

I requested help from my Catholic friend and neighbor who said she'd bury the statue for me. When this works, I'm down with setting up St. Joe in our next house. As long as I don't have to erect candles and a kneeling bench. However, before we could bury it, the unthinkable happened. While cleaning, I knocked over the good saint and watched in horror as he hit the kitchen floor - body went one way, head another.

What the f*ck kind of omen is that?

I'm gonna superglue Brother Man back together, however I can't help but wonder: Am I doomed? Was this a sign that my brother is right? Again?